


Of Memories and Silent Tears

by watchingvfall_n_drown



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Relationship Tags to Be Added - Freeform, Slightly naive dumbledore, au hp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-06-07 22:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6827392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchingvfall_n_drown/pseuds/watchingvfall_n_drown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day that Harry met the Dark Lord for the first time (not counting when he was a baby and completely oblivious to his surrounding), aware and conscious, something irreversible took place that no one could ever have anticipated. Destiny as it was pre-written collapsed, for better or worse. Will anyone in the Wizarding world be aware of the change in their beloved savior?<br/>Memories are precocious things, at times more precious than any riches, and others more painful than even the Cruciatus curse. No matter how much it haunted Harry, he treasured them. They were his strength when despair felled him and his hope when he stared down death in the face. But he would endure. In the silent tears as he dreamed about what once was and what should have been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter books or anything. But this story is mine.

The three days Harry spent in the hospital wing following the unbelievable events, which had occurred in the last chamber containing the Mirror of Erised, were baffling to the teachers and somewhat of concern. Of course they were delighted that any diabolical plans to obtain the philosopher’s stone was foiled, even if it was only by three first year students and they were a little chastised at the fact that their protections were overcome so easily. After all none of the students had any fore-knowledge of what might await them in that mad dash of adventure, except perhaps the goal itself: the philosopher’s stone and possibly a servant of the Dark Lord resolute upon capturing the alchemical phenomenon for their master. In the end however, the young lone Gryffindor had faced something much more unexpected and dangerous: the Dark Lord himself. And as much unexpectedly, in the confrontation between a frightened child and the malicious Dark Lord who had been in the form of a spirit for the last decade or so, the strength of Old magic enabled the former to survive, however marginally. No one dared contemplate what could have happened, had the headmaster not arrived in a crucial time. Survived he might have, but the eleven year old child would spend long three days in the Hospital Wing. That was to be expected though, considering the circumstances and the fact that it might have affected the child’s magical core badly enough that it needed to recuperate on its own.

That would be a matter of slight concern, but it was to be expected.

But what truly worried them, was the fact for the entire duration the child spent in a sleep, so deep under subconscious that neither man nor magic could arouse him unless he woke by himself, tears flowed continuously. 

The child’s face was pale, only marred by the tear tracks that no matter how much they were wiped wouldn’t let themselves be. No expression crossed the sleeping child’s face, no dreams haunted the slumbering one; nothing that might allude to what might be causing the boy such distress. Sometimes it was unnerving to see a sleeping child, otherwise looking so peaceful, crying without restraint and no matter how often the Mediwitch spelled as much of drops of a Calming Draught as she could without risking magical lash out, it wouldn’t subside. Still, they kept watch.

They could only hope that it was an effect that the boy had to endure, upon having had to confront the Dark Lord so early in his life.

They were right of course, though in a way so different that they could never have thought in their wildest dreams.

Dumbledore frowned at the Gryffindor on the bed, wondering at this strange episode and for all his experiences he couldn’t formulate a firm reasoning, only hypothesize and hope that when the child woke up perhaps he would be able to clarify somewhat.

Green eyes fluttered upon, and the headmaster patiently waited for them to focus upon his surroundings. He remembered seeing those bright eyes in the Gryffindor table, laughing with his friends, carefree and innocent as a child should be. 

Now though, there was a pain and a deep sorrow in the once lively child, overwhelming the innocence of which there were only traces of left.

For a moment, the wizened headmaster felt saddened at having the child face reality sooner that he would have wanted. He could understand the turmoil the child must have experienced for having faced the murderer of his parents at such a young age. Of course, the Dark Wizard sought the elimination of the child as well, but the boy didn’t know that as of now and Albus Dumbledore had no desire to add to even more burden on the child’s shoulders even more.

He could understand to an extent, yes, but the eyes seemed wearier than he would have expected. the bright light that shone in any child’s face reflecting the innocence of their soul seemed to have been completely suppressed under a heavy melancholic cloud.

The headmaster was a little concerned for the small boy currently struggling to sit up, dressed in a hospital gown that seemed a size bigger than him.

“Professor?” Thin hands were clasped together on his lap and the face was slightly down-turned, not really looking at the old man Harry was addressing.

“Harry, my dear boy! it is good to see you awake. Your friends have been waiting most anxiously.” 

Green eyes focused back at him and the brows were furrowed as if trying to make sense of his sentence. Dumbledore showed nothing of his inner anxiety as he continued to smile at the dazed looking boy.

“That’s…that’s good to hear.”

Dumbledore waited for a few minutes for the child to gather his bearing before gently starting,” I know you may not want to recall the terrible things you suffered, my dear child, but I must ask you for you are the only living witness.”

The boy noted the significance of his last words,” Quirrel…he is dead then?”

“He is.”'

The boy curled frail fingers in the hems of his pajamas,” It was Quirrel…trying to steal the stone that is…but you already know that.” The boy looked up with unusually sharp eyes and the headmaster could only nod.

The boy looked down again, ”Then there was the mirror…the mirror I saw in the holidays and he was trying to get the stone from it. But he couldn’t. Then there was this voice…telling him to use the boy…me that is. It was on the back of his head and…and…it was Vol-voldemort.”

The voice had been strangely distant throughout the explanation, but at the last word, a broken sob escaped the boy.

Tears started to fall again and the headmaster couldn’t help but feel wretched at the misery he was inflicting upon the poor child but he couldn’t stop now. And hopefully, the boy would feel better after having shared the burden.

“He wanted the stone. I lied though… I had it. Somehow. He wanted it and I wouldn’t give it to him. He wanted to kill me and he wouldn’t stop.” Tear-filled green eyes looked straight at the compassionate light blue ones,” Why would he do that, Professor? Why would he want to kill me?”

The plaintive tone tore at the old man’s heart and he couldn’t help but reach out and take the shuddering boy into his arms. “I am so sorry, Harry…”

Even after three days, it seemed the boy still hadn’t exhausted himself and Dumbledore could only offer apologies and empty promises as the boy clutched to his robes and sobbed his heart out.

After some time, he gently removed himself, but a wrinkled hand caressed the untamed, black hair in affection. The boy didn’t seem all that much eager for close proximity but the headmaster could still see profound grief shattering the boy’s tiny frame into trembles.

“Harry…”

“Why would he want to kill me, professor?”The words were distinguished even while the voice was raspy and thick,”I am just a child. What did I do?”

“Oh no, my boy. You must not hold yourself responsible for the actions of mad men. It was none of your fault, child but the whims of fate that even the strongest of us couldn’t help but obey”, Dumbledore lost himself in sorrowful contemplation.

“Professor…”

The tiny, confused voice shook him out of his reverie and he smiled at the boy, who was still so distraught,” Forgive the musings of an old man, Harry. Our minds tend to wander than most.”Then in a softer voice he continued,”Don’t think anymore on this, now.”

The raven haired child nodded absentmindedly and the tired professor could only hope that the day hadn’t broken the sweet child.

“I killed him, didn’t I?"

“Hmm? Who. Harry?”

“Quirrel…”The boy looked down at his bandaged palms in abject horror,”He couldn’t touch me… But I held on and he burned…”  
Dumbledore interrupted before the Gryffindor overwhelmed himself again,” You merely injured him, dear child. I dare say you were in far worse risk of losing your life than him and had I not come when I did, I wouldn’t like to speculate on the outcome,” He spoke in such a stern voice that Harry couldn’t help but believe him, “He died when Lord Voldemort deserted his host. He is not very tolerant of failure, you see, and even less of his own followers.”

“Oh.” They remained in a companionable silence while the elder man waited patiently while looking at the pile of presents for the boy. And the Boy in question was looking away with such misery written in the pale features that the other couldn’t bring themselves to distract him using silly things.

“Is he dead too, then?” There was fear in the young voice. How Dumbledore wished to erase it, to put the young child’s mind to rest, how he wished a single lie would help preserve the remaining innocence. But he couldn’t.

There was sincere regret in the headmaster’s voice, “I am sorry to say otherwise, my boy. I am afraid the Dark Lord is still out there, awaiting his next opportunity to gain a body.”  
The boy didn’t meet his eye, but remained fixed on the strange markings on a nearby bed. 

Dumbledore could swear that there was almost a smile on the boy’s face, but dismissed it as a mere trick of light.


	2. This time he saw wisps of memories that failed to grasp pleading behind the green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry faces down his fated to be blood-rival even if only one of them really means it. Dumbledore is intuitive and wise, but sometimes blind what goes on behind innocent facades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Again i do not own any of the Harry Potter J. K. Rowling stories. Just this fanfic.

The year had been an amalgam of such strange events full of melancholic déjà vu and such hopelessness that the headmaster of Hogwarts Albus Dumbledore wasn’t keen on experiencing it ever again. He remembered the last time the Slytherin monster had been released in the halls of Hogwarts ultimately leading to the unfortunate demise of a student who had unwittingly crossed its path. As sudden as the terror had started its reign it had ended just as abruptly and mysteriously, with that one fatal casualty. That despair which he had hoped to be free of had returned with a vengeance this year when the events started up again, gaining a momentum. And he had been so very afraid that another of his students would fall victim to the monster while he floundered for answers. At least last time he had suspicions on a certain Slytherin with the famed gift that only the line of Salazar Slytherin had possessed. However this time the Parseltongue speaker had been one absolutely unexpected and he didn’t want to suspect the boy. Yet, there could have been in no other way the monster could have been directed if not by a speaker of parsel tongue itself. His earlier hypothesis now riddled in doubt, he had sought for some other solution. Before he could implement any half formed plans that he had in his mind however, Lucius Malfoy had wrought his sly cunning with the Board of Governors and gotten him removed from Hogwarts. 

Oh, he had no doubt of the ulterior means the man must have adapted to be able to carry out such a move and he would confess that the man should certainly be congratulated upon having manipulated present circumstances for his personal gain. Dumbledore had sometimes wondered if the conniving Slytherin alumni had been the one to orchestrate the regrettable events occurring in Hogwarts this year, but dismissed the thought. Surely if the man had such resources, there would have been another recurrence when the elder Malfoy was a student himself or at the very least an inkling. No matter how tight-knit the Slytherin house considered themselves, they were still young students capable of fallacies such as hubris, which often translated to gossiping and boasting. Besides this the Malfoy family had no history of having descended from the founder family.  
No matter the possibilities, he felt that Malfoy had at least the intention to honestly care for the safety of the innocent students among which his own son was included. At least such was the reason he had given to oust the headmaster. Even if they were pure bloods, surely Lucius wouldn’t have trusted to rely on a beast to differentiate. Surely he wouldn’t have exposed his lone heir to such a sheer chance. Dumbledore didn’t even know if the monster was acting o its own volition or if needed specific instructions from its master. Either of the possibilities had perils. While the former meant there might be a mindless beast simply waiting upon a prey, but the later implied Hogwarts was at the mercy of whims of an adolescent.

He had left quietly of course, keeping as much of his dignity as possible but inwardly he had fretted for the hapless students that he was abandoning. He only hoped the young children would endure in his absence and dearly preyed to Gods above that there wouldn’t be blood in his hands once again.

He had worked in frenzy to reestablish his position and had thought himself to be too late at the news that the youngest of the Weaselys had been taken into the chamber. The parents had been inconsolable and he could only watch with sympathy for the devastated family.

Now, seeing the involved Gryffindors healthier than expected, if a little weary and distraught at the moment, he had been overjoyed and relieved. None of the relief showed in his face however, as he herded all the parties into his office. Once everyone was somehow situated, he had calmed his frantic mind at the fact that this time at least there wouldn’t be a death weighing on his conscience.

Then he had looked at the smaller second year Gryffindor boy in his ruffled robes, loosely holding onto a blood stained long sword in his thin hand. He looked so painfully young under all that grime and blood liberally splattered on his face and dress; the paleness only emphasized the contrast of the foreign substances. His heart clenched at the downturned face. He hoped sincerely that the boy had come out of this relatively unscathed.

“Harry.” He was both pleading and hoping. For what he didn’t quite know, but when the child looked up with luminescent green eyes he was reminded of the last year. Couldn’t the child have the right to his innocence like the rest of the friends? Surely he deserved it more than any other.

“Professor.”, the breathless voice was weary and helpless, barely containing a sob.

He had wanted to have the boys recount the events and find the truth of what had taken place, but in the face of this forlorn child he didn’t want to seem even more monstrous than the one Harry just vanquished by interrogating him in front of such a large audience.

“Come here, child.” He herded the dirtied Gryffindor into one of his puffy armchair, the small frame almost engulfed in the cushions.

Then with the voice that the all teachers have to make their pupils babble without restraint, he had managed to extract from Ronald Weasley most of the incredible events that the Gryffindor trio had experienced. The tale came to a halt at the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets, but of course there was only one witness of the rest. The youngest Weasley was disregarded considering she was unconscious most of the time. Thus, all the others had turned to the child who was staring absent mindedly and to their sorrow, tear tracks were flowing unabashedly down muddying his face even further. The headmaster had distracted them by promising the Special Services award to the Gryffindor duo, namely Harry and Ronald, and then sent them off to the infirmary to be properly treated.

The sudden cacophony disappeared suddenly and Albus Dumbledore was left alone with his student. Absent mindedly he conjured another arm chair beside the other and sat in front of the crying child. He wished he could clean the boy of the grimes that almost covered him, or at the very least the scarlet drying substances that was glaring at him violently, reminding him of his failure. But he couldn’t, not until he had relieved this child of the newest burden. If given the opportunity, a young child is likely to internalize his trauma, suppressing them until they are buried deep beneath. It could be absolutely detrimental to the still developing psyche of a child and Dumbledore didn’t want to damage the boy any further than he already was.

“Harry, my boy.”

Tearful green eyes turned to him, open and plaintive. Without a second thought, he took the violently trembling child into his arms, not caring in the least how his robes were getting stained as well. As if, a dam burst tiny fists curled in his purple robes and the boy gave into loud agonizing sobs of a child. The headmaster was reminded of last year, and again he could do nothing but run his hand gently upon the matted, sticky hair.

“What happened, my dear boy?”

The child only shook his head and trembled even harder. How he wished he could give harry the respite he no doubt desired, but he had to be insistent.  
Firmly he removed the shaking boy by grasping the thin shoulders and held him in a slight distance, “I am sorry for making you go through the undoubtedly harrowing events again Harry, without giving you a breathing space, but I must ask. Tell me what happened.”

He hadn’t removed his own hands from the shoulders, whether to stop the boy from escaping or hiding himself he didn’t know, and he could feel when the boy seemingly curled into himself.

“I… I went into the chamber and Ron waited for me on the other side. The Parsel tongue guarded door wouldn’t let him in. I went inside and there was Ginny lying on the ground. I shook her to wake her up, but she was so cold.” The boy shivered but continued without a prompt,” I was going to carry her out but then Tom was there.”  
“Tom?”

The child nodded emphatically, “The diary Tom. I recognized him; he had shown me a memory of when Hagrid got arrested last time for opening the chamber. He was framed, but we didn’t know then. Not until we talked to acromantulas, but Ron already told you that...”He trailed off looking at his headmaster.

“He did indeed. Go on.”

“He had my wand. I asked him to help me. Then I wondered how he came out of the diary if he was just a memory.”

“Rather smart of you, my boy.”

Harry gave a small smile before continuing ,”I thought it might have something to do with how Ginny seemed so lifeless, and he said that he was taking her life source to come back to life.” The small nose wrinkled,” I didn’t believe him. I mean if it could be done like that, no one would die anymore.”

He looked at Dumbledore for confirmation and the aged man smiled affectionately down at the boy,” There are Magic that are capable of great and terrible acts, child. Even I, in all my years have never came across such incidence. No matter how much we learn, there is always more to. Of course, there is knowledge that is too dangerous to have and to act upon it often requires terrible cost. Knowledge without sense is the catalyst to acts of folly. Just because we don’t know something, doesn’t mean it is not possible. Always keep an open mind. But I digress; do continue on your tale.”

Now, a little calmer after Dumbledore’s impromptu lecture, “But Ginny was dying. So, I asked him to stop it. That if he would wait a little more and leave Ginny alone, maybe I could get him someone else.” The child looked at him apologetically.

“You were buying for time.” His mouth twitched a bit.

The thin shoulders slumped in obvious relief,”Yes, sir.”

“That was quick thinking on your part.”

“I couldn’t wake up Ginny. No one else could enter the room without being a Parsel tongue speaker and I didn’t have a wand. I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Perfectly understandable, my boy.”

“I thought we could give him a rabbit or something. It doesn’t matter whose life, does it?”

“I rather think it does.”

“Oh.”

The old eyes of Albus Dumbledore could see the guilt at having made such a bargain in the pinched face and the twisting fingers that relentlessly twisted the home of their robe. He tenderly lifted the boy’s face and spoke in a firm voice to dispel all lingering doubts,” Harry. You were in a difficult situation where you had selflessly and willingly entered into to save another’s life. You were defenseless and possibly, no, certainly facing a future where Tom would have drained the Weasley child and killed you for being a witness. You could have left Ginny for a lost cause. Instead, you held onto hope and told a white lie that would prolong both your lives. I am proud of you, dear child.”

Shadowed green eyes flickered to the side and Harry spoke in a soft whisper,” Thank you, professor.”

He cleared his throat and Albus held up a finger,” You must be parched by now. How about a glass of water?”

“Yes, please.”

Instead of conjuring and then giving him water from Aguamenti, the headmaster summoned his personal elf.

“Thank you, Tilly.”

Harry merely nodded at the elf.

“Now, Harry.” Albus Dumbledore turned expectant gaze upon the child to not so subtly urge him into continuing.

“It didn’t matter anyway. He didn’t believe me. I had thought all he wanted was to bring himself back to life, then he started to ask me questions.”

“Such as?”

“Like how does a baby survive a killing curse. How it was possible that a baby could defeat the Dark Lord and so on. I didn’t understand why he would be curious about that. I mean it’s one thing for the entire Wizarding world to ask me that. It’s another thing for a diary to become curious about the boy-who-lived. He wasn’t though. He was also curious about the Dark Lord. I suppose I should have suspected something. At first I thought this was one of the death eaters.”

“Valid assumption.”

“He laughed at me. I was so confused at that point. And I had forgotten about one thing; the only ones that could enter the chamber are those who are Parsel speakers.”

“Ah.”

“So, you see I really should have known. It hit me all at once when Tom waved his wand in the air and Tom Marvolo Riddle became I Am Lord Voldemort.”

“You couldn’t have known, Harry.”

“But, I… I…it could have gone differently. I could have done something.”

“You couldn’t have known if there was another parselmouth in the school or not, Harry. You did really well, never doubt that. What did you do?

“ I was a little shocked at that moment and by the time I spoke he had already released the Basilisk on me. I suppose I could have tried speaking to it, but at the moment I panicked and stumbled about with my eyes closed. Tom was talking about how he was going to kill me. He even spoke of how our lives seemed to reflect one another and I tried to make him understand…”

“Understand what, Harry?”

The boy blinked owlishly,” That he shouldn’t kill me.”

“I suppose you were unsuccessful in convincing him?”

Harry nodded. He seemed to have lost all the strength he had gained from the headmaster’s occasional light hearted remarks and the levity disappeared as the green eyes widened, recent memories haunted him.

“But he wouldn’t stop.” He started softly. “I tried to make him understand. But he wouldn’t listen. And I couldn’t understand wh-why h-he just wouldn’t listen. And the Basilisk was getting near and Tom was just taunting me…I thought I was gonna die and he wouldn’t care.”

Such innocence. It was remarkable how the child retained the purity in his soul even when faced with the darkest of wizards so many times. Thus, he didn’t reply how the Dark Lord would indeed not care at all if he were to kill a twelve year old boy. Indeed he might feel satisfaction at having killed Harry potter.

But Harry Potter was an innocence, sweet child who couldn’t fathom the act of killing itself, going as far as trying to convince the killer out of it.

Even as he stroked the admirable child’s hair to give him the strength to continue, the young body heaved with choking sobs.

“What happened, Harry?”

“Fawkes came and dropped the sorting hat on top of my head. Then he went and plucked the Basilisk’s eyes.”

He knew Fawkes had left in the aid of the boy, of course. Still his eye brows were raised.

“Indeed? Fawkes only goes to those who proclaim honest loyalty to me in the times of need.” He had hoped to distract the boy from his sorrows and thankful as well as a little amused to see pink tint the pale cheeks.

“H-he…Tom said you were not able to stop him and that you were weak. I got a little mad and said you were the only one he ever feared and never dared to face, also that you were always there for your students."

His old heart lightened at the honest words that the child spoke. He didn’t even know how weary he had been past weeks, but the sweet trust of the child seemed like a summer rain to wash away all the past sins. He could only hope he could measure up to such high standards.

“Thank you, Harry.” If his voice was a little tight, no one mentioned it.

Harry looked away abashedly and started speaking a rapid tone as if to forget he had said anything. Dumbledore’s beard twitched but he didn’t show any other signs of his deep amusement.

“I thought it was all a little late, though. When I was shouting at Tom, the snake followed my voice and bit me.”

If not for his years of experience and patience, Dumbledore would have gasped in alarm. But he knew that unless it was already remedied, the boy wouldn’t be sitting in front of him. That didn’t stop his heart from sitting heavy in his throat though.

“I managed to stab the sword though.” Dumbledore marveled at how sorrowful the boy sounded at having to kill a murderous snake. The child would never cease to amaze him. “Tom thought I was going to die. I thought I was going to die. But Fawkes saved me.”

Ah, a phoenix’s tear to battle a basilisk’s venom. For all the terrible situations the boy seemed to find himself in, at least fortune seemed to favor him a bit.

The boy seemed to have difficulty in saying the next words...

“Harry?”

“I…T-Tom got so mad…and raised his wand to…do something…kill me I guess. And I just wanted to s-stop him. The sword was deep inside the snake’s mouth and in my hand was the fang. All I meant to do was stop him…or distract him. So I stabbed the diary.”The last sentence was uttered in tiniest of whispers.

“I-I stabbed it. And T-Tom screamed like he was dying. There was ink all over the diary…pouring out like blood. I-I killed him and got his blood in my hands.” The Gryffindor brought out the ruined diary from under his robes, looking at it glazed eyes.

“But it was just a memory wasn’t it, professor? I didn’t really kill him, right? Because we saw Voldemort last year and no way they could be the same. It was just an enchanted diary with spells to ensnare and all, right professor...

“Harry.”

“Two persons couldn’t be in two different places at the same time, that too looking so different. Maybe it was probably a diary of Voldemort that got exposed to accidental magic and had sentience of its own, like the Ford Anglia. He-he isn’t dead, you said…

“Harry.”

“I-I didn’t kill him. I-I know I didn’t. But I felt like I did. But it isn’t possible to be halfway dead, is it professor? You said last year Voldemort would try other ways to come back to life. Was that it? B-but I didn’t kill him, right? B-because if I did…

“HARRY!”

The child snapped his mouth shut, wide eyes looking at him pleadingly.

“Did I kill Tom, professor?”

Albus Dumbledore looked at the unguarded eyes and then at the wet, inky stained journal. Trailing his wand upon the pages, he murmured under his breath, the wand tip glowing faintly. All this while, the child waited with bated breath and unnaturally still, afraid to interrupt the headmaster.

He looked back at the soulful eyes, how kind this child was.

“I am sorry, my dear boy, whatever magics this book once might have, it is nothing but a mundane diary now.”

“Oh.” The single sound was all at once of hopelessness and despair.

The boy spoke in a quiet voice,” But you said you heard Voldemort is in Albania, professor?”

“That I did, Harry.”

“Then, how…"

“I myself am unsure of the answer. But let us not think about this now.”

“As you say, professor.”

The boy looked down, pulling and twisting at the hem of his robes: a nervous tic of his, Dumbledore had noticed. It wasn’t difficult to fathom what was in the child’s mind.

“Harry. Child, look at me.”

The distressed visage reluctantly obeyed the force of a finger under its chin.

“You are not at fault here, do you understand me? You prevailed in great adversity against the Dark Lord once again. Even if it was a younger version, let me assure you Voldemort was no less cunning or intelligent at that age. You survived and rescued your fellow student. Tom was trying to kill you and you had every right to defend yourself under such circumstances. Never believe otherwise.”

The child nodded, but there was still a frown between his brows.

Dumbledore sighed. It was disconcerting how horribly affected Harry seemed to be at each death, but he supposed it was a good thing. Merlin forbid, he should never get used to the act of taking of lives. He didn’t need the rising of another dark lord. Dumbledore shook his head at that thought. That was ridiculous. Harry was such a pure soul. He shouldn’t indulge such malicious thoughts.

“Professor, I…” 

Whatever Harry wanted to say was put on hold however, when after a clang of the door Lucius Malfoy strode inside with nary a courtesy. The blond wizard was immaculately dressed as usual, with his expressions within iron control. 

Only the tiny flair of the aristocratic nostrils gave indication to how vexed the wizard really was.

“Dumbledore. I see you are back in Hogwarts.”

“Yes, indeed. When the board of Governors heard that the youngest of Arthur Weasley had been taken into the chamber, they immediately reinstated me. It seemed that most of them were under the impression that you had threatened their families unless they unanimously agreed to remove me from Hogwarts.”

And, there was the flair again.

“Yes, yes… I see. Did you find the girl then?” Derision and contempt dripped from the man like overflowing honey and Dumbledore felt grateful that Lucius didn’t seem to hide his true impressions. It was a novel feeling indeed, considering he knew so many ministry members were trapped in his vinegar laced web.

“Yes, indeed, although the true credit goes to Harry here.” He gestured at the small, filth coated knight with shining sword.

“Harry? Harry Potter?” all of the attention was riveted on the child who was gazing back at the tall man just as intently. The scrutiny made Dumbledore curious, but patient. No doubt, one of the man’s many webs would unravel soon enough.

“Have you found the culprit?”

“Yes.”

Albus Dumbledore watched delightedly as the man almost grinded his teeth. Slytherins were always so easy to rile up.

“Well, who was it?”

He put his chin upon interlocked fingers with interest. The man seemed almost nervous. Oh, Dumbledore hoped it was not what he thought it might be.

“Voldemort.” As with most people a flinch ran through the man even though he valiantly bore it.

The headmaster continued after the slight pause,” Although, this time he seemed to be acting through somebody else.”

This time, the tic seemed almost pronounced and the headmaster was as saddened at the slight evidence as much he was furious at the man for having put the school in such peril.

It was however curious, how Harry seemed to be gazing at the man without blinking but frowning slightly.

“Is that so?”

“Indeed, a small diary. Rather an inconspicuous item.”

At that time Harry overtook him. But Dumbledore didn’t mind. He was rather hoping some of the puzzles would clear up.

“Yes, professor. Quite inconspicuous and easy to overlook. Quite simple to slip it inside another book. Particularly in a crowded place like Diagon alley. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Malfoy?”

The man was obviously threatened and like any other snakes he would want to hiss back. But couldn’t, not when Dumbledore was present.

“What tripe are you spouting now, boy?”

“Oh, I was just thinking out aloud. I mean, if someone were to sneak the diary into the school, I think it would be the easiest way to simply put it in another’s book. Particularly in the middle of a disturbance. Easier to distract, I see. But then I am sure that person couldn’t have anyone close in the school. I mean who would want to endanger themselves or their children by indirectly freeing a snake that was locked up for years? Sure they say the chamber was meant to cleanse the school of muggleborns, but why would a beast care for that when it got hungry? Pureblood, halfblood, muggleborn they smell all the same to snakes after all. Surely, they wouldn’t just carelessly throw away their children’s lives with the assurance that obviously the snake wouldn’t eat you. Not when the Slytherin dungeons are probably nearer to the chamber.”

Lucius Malfoy had become red anger when Harry started to speak, but gradually the red receded and instead the man turned pale, clutching the familiar cane tightly in one hand as he stared at the twelve year old Gryffindor.

“That would be quite foolish, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Malfoy?”

The man seemed almost faint, but he was a Malfoy and put himself together,” Yes, yes…quite right. Now, if you would excuse me, Mr. Potter. Dumbledore.”

As suddenly the man had swept in, he left with just as much warning.

The headmaster looked at his young pupil. The child was still looking at the place where the man had been moments before.

“That was much more effective than anything I had planned on saying.” He finally murmured when it seemed Harry wasn’t going to say anything.

“I don’t think he really knew what he was doing.”

“No?”

“Draco is a prat.” Dumbledore opened his mouth to rebuke the young boy, but didn’t say anything,” He is a spoiled, arrogant, sheltered little boy.”

Albus coughed delicately,” Yes, I suppose that is one way of saying it.”

“But that also means his parents treasure him very much.” Harry looked at back at the wise blue eyes hidden behind half moon spectacles,” Mr. Malfoy didn’t realize what he was doing.”

“No, I suppose not. He is stubborn though, you understand. It might not matter at all to him.”

“Maybe. But I hope it might make him think one day.”

Albus Dumbledore was very proud of his young charge, indeed.

“I think that has been enough excitement for a year. Let’s get you cleaned off and checked at the infirmary.”

“I can go by myself, Professor.”

“No doubt you can, my boy. All the same I would rather not risk Poppy’s wrath when she sees you walking around in Hogwarts unsupervised and covered in blood.”

It was not quite a smile, still the headmaster feel a little better when the furrows on the boy’s brows smoothed a bit.

The sword was left behind on the table, but the diary was clasped tightly in the young boy’s hand. The cheerful headmaster never noticed how tenderly the green eyed boy held the ruined piece that had been the focal point of this entire debacle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, this chapter was not supposed to be separate, rather a part of first chapter. And yet I really like the encounters between Dumbledore and Harry. They are almost..sweet. If it is not obvious already there will be no Dumbledore bashing here. In fact, bashing if no one actually. Even Gods have their faults, although that might be because human kind based them upon frames of themselves.
> 
> I am rambling.
> 
> I hope I am not making this too confusing. I have a plot, I promise. I just don't want to give it away by writing it in the summary or notes. Soooo.. have some patience, my dear readers. Hope, you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter 3

Albus Dumbledore looked at the fourteen year old Gryffindor in dismay. The child was looking up at the white ceiling of the nauseatingly sterile med wing, pale hands clasped demurely on his stomach as he lay upon the bed he seemed to frequent in his so far four years of schooling in Hogwarts. It was rather distressing really, how often the child seemed to end up almost fatally injured.

Watching the still bemused child, he didn’t wish to break this calm and possibly shatter something that no reparo could fix. But the circumstances were dire and he desperately needed all the information so that he could begin the counter actions. He had been alarmed at how…dazed and pliant the boy seemed ever since he had emerged from the maze with a Golden Triwizard Cup and the cooling body of Cedric Diggory. He attributed it the shock and the horror the sweet child must have felt. And he dearly hoped that was all it was.

“Harry.”

The child with the incredible green eyes focused on him, even though the he still seemed to stare at something far, far away. Without a comment he sat up, automatically smoothing out any wrinkle on his robe that was in truth tone apart as if a pack of wolves had chased him in woods.

“Professor. I guess you want to know what happened.”

He did. But looking at the boy who once had such lively, innocent eyes reflecting the purity of his soul, the child who had the most disarming and open gaze that were now all but shadowed with horrors that no children should ever have to face, much less all alone, he couldn’t say the clinical words. He still remembered the small, sweet child who had sought comfort mere two years past and he couldn’t see any signs of that little one in this young teen who was now looking at him with expressionless eyes. He had seen the vibrant life that sparkled in those hooded eyes and wasn’t going to let it be smothered by darkness.

“In a moment, my boy… Are you alright?”

It was a pointless query since he wouldn’t even know the context, but hopefully the child would understand the hidden implication here.

He hadn’t expected the shadows to leave the green eyes, but they receded. Harry bowed his head and his headmaster took a seat beside him not questioning, merely waiting.

“I…I don’t know professor.”

“It is alright, Harry. Just don’t let yourself fall into despair.”

“I don’t think there is any hope left actually.” The child held up pale hands that were still trembling a little from their exposure to the cruciatus curse.” I never expected…I never dreamed…I held onto the foolish hope that I could actually succeed…”

“Harry, no hope is ever foolish. They might be a bit more difficult to realize, that is all.” The child looked still so desolate,” Even when the entire world starts falling around and there is no hope left, you will always have people who care about to stand with you. I for one know Sirius will never leave your side. Never doubt that.”

The smile was tremulous, but Dumbledore counted it as a victory.

“Not always, professor.” Clenched fists were clutching the bed cover now,” Sometimes you have to face the end all alone.”

All his attempts at raising the child’s spirits were squashed at that point. After all, he did indeed almost meet his end, without any aid or hope for it either. How could he expect otherwise when even he had failed to protect his student year and year again. It was a bitter remainder of his failings, even if he had tried his best. Clearly his best wasn’t quite enough.

He cleared his throat.

“Harry…”

The child shook his head.

“The cup was a port key. Cedric and I were both injured, not quite capable of walking on our own and in the end decided to take it as a joint victory. The port key landed us in the graveyard. We didn’t have much of a warning before Cedric was shot with a killing curse. He…he couldn’t have avoided it.” The teen spoke in a monotonous voice of the terrible events leading to the rising of the dark lord Voldemort.

Dumbledore grew solemn at the dark ritual used, and the Gryffindor showed the arm where his blood was taken. The wound was healed, but left a mark as Ritual knifes were warranted to do. His frown was a little more pronounced when Harry rattled off the names of death eaters who had heeded the call of their dark mark. There was no surprise however, but Dumbledore was disappointed to learn it nonetheless. He had hoped that after a decade of peace, the death eaters wouldn’t be so eager to return to their master’s side. Still, it was not like taking a dark mark had actually expiration; they were bonded till date. No one would so callously throw away their self-preservation instincts and court the wrath of a master who was cruel and ever unforgiving.

With the same toneless manner, Harry went on describing the introductory talk the Dark Lord had with his death eaters.

“He spoke to them, but he would always come back to me. He never gave me a chance to speak.”

Harry spoke of when he was finally released to face the man in a duel.

“I think I was a little angry at that time. I said that he clearly had no honor if he was going to boast of a duel with a fourteen year old untrained and injured wizard. That it was really pathetic of him.”

“Harry! There is a time for expressing your sentiments. It is certainly not for when you are confronting a Dark Lord.”

“I was really mad at him.” The murmur came softly.

Dumbledore sighed but didn’t argue any further.

“He cast the crucio on me a few times, a taste of what was to come he said. He didn’t allow any of his death eaters to raise their wands against me, though. He even cursed one horribly when they became a little zealous.”

“That is interesting. I suppose he wants to be the one to kill you”

“Yes. He wanted my pain and death to be by his wand only, he explained.” Harry replied.

The dull tone shook the headmaster a little,”Harry...”

“And if I ever had any doubt to his words, it was quickly remedied. I didn’t really have any chance at defense. He was fast and focused. I avoided the first one. But for the second one, he cast the killing curse at be same time as I said expelliarmus.”

“Expelliarmus, my boy?”

“I wanted him to stop. I couldn’t really bring myself to do anything too severe.”

Whatever he was going to ask further was derailed when Harry explained how their brother wands reacted resulting in priori incantatem. The teen spoke of how the ghostly apparitions of all the recent murdered committed by the Dark Lord appeared, to aid him and to restrict the other. He spoke of their soft words, of the last request asked by the Hufflepuff.

When it was finished, both of them sat in silence.

He dearly wanted to stay by the child’s side, at this time of need. But now, the Dark Lord had risen and every moment was crucial.

“Harry…”

“It’s all right, professor. I should be resting now, anyway.”

That wasn’t the point, but Dumbledore turned away from the doorway.

If he had looked back, he would have seen the dark haired teen caressing the still fresh knife wound in deep contemplation.


End file.
